


Nancy Drew and the Knife in Her Shoulder

by A_Big_Old_Skeleton



Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Blood and Violence, Detective Noir, F/F, maybe the gals will be pals, maybe the gals will not be pals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:20:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23483737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Big_Old_Skeleton/pseuds/A_Big_Old_Skeleton
Summary: Nancy wakes up in less than ideal circumstances and only has one person she can really turn to.A quick and dirty tone piece that might as well live here.
Relationships: Nancy Drew/George Fayne, Nancy Drew/Ned Nickerson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We all deal with the quarantine in our own way and apparently my way is thinking about a hard-boiled, down on her luck Nancy Drew, and then I go and end up having to mess around with it a bit and well, here we are.

Nancy’s jaw was killing her. That was the first sensation that came back to her, followed by equally dour reports from the ribs on her right side and her left shoulder, which (as it turned out) had a knife sticking out of it. She tried not to think about how much it would hurt to pull it out and settled for focusing on her immediate surroundings, which were dark and full of bags of garbage – a dumpster? She pushed on the “roof,” such as it was, and was relieved to find it swung open into the soft light of the dawn easily.

Well, at least he’d been smart enough not to kill her, she thought. This was just a strong discouragement; a polite reminder that she needed to keep her nose out of his fucking business and (as far as she was concerned) an admission of guilt. The unspoken part of the message this experience was meant to send was that while _she_ could shrug this off as part of the cost of doing business, her friends and loved ones were far less used to taking a beating.

She levered herself out of the dumpster and had to bite back a cry of pain she landed, the impact jostling everything that hurt and a few things that didn’t for good measure. She patted herself down and went fishing in her pockets for her phone, which was, of course, dead. Nancy walked gingerly out of the alleyway she’d found herself in and looked for any landmarks. It was the alleyway between the post office and Barbara’s Beans, a store that she was never sure how exactly it stayed in business, but it was still there.

_Okay, first order of business: get this knife out._ Nancy tried not to laugh at the situation, and hoped that the slow drip of blood staining her jacket was slow enough that she’d be able to make it to George’s place without fainting. That she and George hadn’t been speaking to one another for the last several months was not something that entered her current state of mind – whether through blood loss or just an unwillingness to revisit the memory of their last fight (or a combination of both, perhaps) was immaterial.

“Okay Drew,” she muttered, “one foot in front of the other. You’ve been through worse.”

She wasn’t actually certain that was true. The older she got, the worse the cases seemed to be. This current case had sent her down a rabbit hole of corruption that would have blown teenage Nancy’s mind – and that was before the body of one of the city’s leading prosecutors had been fished out of the river. Nancy marked off landmarks as she walked. The pizzeria. The drug store. Her father’s old law office, now converted to serve as her own office and in a far less attractive state of repair due to a perpetual lack of funds. She paused, shaking her head to clear the darkness creeping in at the edges of her vision.

Phone. There was a phone in her office. She could call George there, hope that she’d pick up. If it came to it, she could call Bess – who would probably insist on a hospital visit that Nancy couldn’t really afford, but it would be better than dying. A last resort. Bess had been on Nancy to give up the detective game for years, and Nancy didn’t want to get into one of _those_ conversations again if she could help it.

Her keys were still on her, fortunately, and she staggered into her office and made directly for the phone. She dialed George’s number from memory (there were two numbers she’d never forgotten, even if only one of them was useful anymore) and slumped in her desk chair, trying not to think about the way her limbs seemed to be going cold and her vision was darkening. Her heart was beating faster now too, but that was probably due to the ringing on the other side of the line more than anything else. Just as Nancy was about to hang up and call Bess, there was a click and the rough sound of a newly-conscious (and annoyed) George.

“Drew, I told you not to call me when you’re drunk.” George had only ever called Nancy by her last name when she was mad.

Nancy swallowed and spoke, her own voice seeming faint and far away to her. “Sorry, George. Wish it were just that, but I’m in a jam.”

Something in her voice must have given away just how bad of a state she was in, because all annoyance left George’s voice and was replaced with concern. “You’re at the office? What happened?”

Nancy felt so tired, suddenly. “Had a meeting with some friends that ended with a knife in my shoulder. I know I don’t deserve it, but… hoped you might help.”

“You’re _stabbed? Jesus_ , Nancy. I’m on my way.”

“Sorry.” Nancy muttered, feeling consciousness wandering away from her. “I’m only ever causing trouble for you. I‘m a bad friend.”

“Shut up, I’ll be there in five minutes, okay Nance?”

Nancy had just enough time to mutter something that was either “thank you” or “love you” before she passed out again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy wakes up for a hard conversation with a soft ending.

Nancy woke up to the sight of a familiar ceiling which was very much not the one in her office, and instead of being passed out in her chair she was in a bed that was _also_ familiar. The knife was no longer in her shoulder, at least, and instead there were stitches covered by a bandage. She was slightly propped up on pillows; presumably to help her avoid aggravating her ribs. It was quiet, and the light coming through the window was low and orange, a sign she’d slept most of the day away. The unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke filled the air, and Nancy wrinkled her nose in annoyance.

“I can’t believe you smoke inside.” she muttered to herself.

Nancy was startled to get a response to her statement. “Fuck you Drew, it’s my house and I’ll do what I want.”

She sat up a little more, wincing as she did so, and looked around the room. George sat in an armchair, an open book in her lap and a lit cigarette hanging out of her mouth. “I guess I can’t argue that.” Nancy replied, and then added, “I thought you quit.”

There was a wry amusement tinged with exhaustion in George’s reply. “Yeah, well, high stress situations tend to reignite old bad habits.”

Nancy let the words sink in, parts of her consciousness still playing catch-up. “Is that what I am? An old, bad habit?”

A fond smile flickered across George’s features that she covered with a scoff and “My _worst_ habit.”

Nancy leaned back and closed her eyes, the ghost of fondness hurting her more than her ribs did. “How did I end up at your place, anyway? Last I remember was calling you at the office.”

This time the amusement was a little more obvious. “You sure you’re really a detective, Drew?” George rolled her eyes. “As soon as I saw the state of you I stopped the bleeding and carried you to my car.”

Nancy wasn’t sure why she was surprised to hear this. George’s compact frame held a strength she’d never been shy about showing, so the idea that she’d thrown Nancy over her shoulder and carried her out seemed obvious. George had, in fact, served as Nancy’s bodyguard on more than one occasion (and on several other more pleasant occasions had demonstrated the ability to support Nancy’s weight for lengthy periods of time).

“Thank you.” she said, quietly. “You didn’t have to-“

“Yes I did, Nancy. You needed help.”

Nancy was not too proud to admit this. “Yes, but you didn’t have to bring me here. Watch over me to make sure I was going to be okay. You could’ve patched me up and left.”

“Who says I’ve been watching over you?”

“The fact that you’re nearly through that book,” Nancy said, not quite able to suppress a smirk, “and the fact that you’ve got about a pack of cigarettes in that ashtray there.”

“Sure,” George said, with an annoyed sigh, “ _now_ she’s back to being a detective.”

For a moment, it felt like things used to be – but then everything that had come after came rushing in to fill the silence. Nancy cast about for something to say that wasn’t another apology for the trouble, because she knew it would just annoy George. So instead, she ended up saying the first thing that came to mind.

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked what the hell I got myself into yet.”

It hadn’t been the right thing to ask. George’s walls were back up. “I’ve been trying to decide whether or not I want to know.”

“Fair.” Nancy replied, regretting the question and feeling an old bitterness. “I don’t think I could stand a lecture about how I should let this one go, anyway.”

The statement struck a nerve, because George’s tone immediately carried an aggressiveness to it that signaled Nancy was in dangerous territory. “When did I ever tell you to drop a case, Nancy? You’ll have to remind me, because, you know, it’s been a long time since I’ve talked to you when you’re sober.”

 _That’s because I couldn’t bring myself to look you in the eye sober_ , Nancy thought, but she shoved the thought aside and sniped back instead. “I seem to recall a case coming between us.”

“It was never the case, it was what the case was doing to you! What it did to _us!_ ” George’s voice was raised, now, and the cigarette fell from her lips. She caught it deftly, almost unthinkingly, and leaned forward. “You think I wanted to have my hands tied? You think I liked watching you go on a doomed crusade knowing that it was going to destroy you and unable to stop it?”

“It was never doomed!” Nancy fired back, her own voice raised. “I could have saved him! Could have pulled him back from the edge if I’d just been…” her voice broke, and she shut her eyes against the sting of tears. “Better. Faster. A little more observant. Maybe I could’ve…” her voice trailed off, and she took a deep breath, trying to regain control.

There was the sound of movement, and George’s hand was suddenly on her shoulder, hesitant, almost not entirely there. “You can’t _save_ everyone, Nance. You know that.”

Nancy gritted her teeth, frustrated and angry. “That doesn’t mean I won’t _try_.”

“I know you won’t, Nance. It’s why…” George stopped herself, recovering with a somewhat half-hearted, “it’s why you’re so insufferably admirable.” The hand, which had been so hesitantly placed to begin with, vanished.

The loss of contact stung, and Nancy hated that it stung, hated that she was so clearly not over what had happened. Hated everything about the situation and being hurt and weak and short on time. She could have tried to make things right, could have been honest to George about how much she missed her. Instead, she retreated, changed the subject. “It’s a frame job. You’ve heard about the union rep down at Mahoney Anvil?”

“Eunice Jackson?” George seemed surprised. “Yeah, I’ve read the news. Killed her husband, according to the police.”

“That’s the one.” Nancy nodded. “Her son hired me to look into it. Said the cops were botching the investigation. Said his mother was going to use her experience as union rep to run for a seat on the City Council and the idea spooked some people enough they went to take her down.”

“I wasn’t aware City Council politics were so cutthroat.”

“They usually aren’t, but Eunice’s politics aren’t exactly ‘traditional River Heights values.’” Nancy explained, unable to keep a certain tone of annoyance out of her voice. “The worry – or so the young Jackson claims – is that Eunice would be the start of something. That folks might start agitating for change and upset the balance of power that so many find useful here.”

George whistled low. “She must be a hell of an orator to get people that scared.”

Nancy nodded. “I’ve talked to some of the people in the union. Not a one of them thinks she did it, and all of them talk about what she’s done for them. Honestly, I think it might be too late to stop what she’s started already.”

“Strong sense of justice, I assume?” George shook her head and gave Nancy a look. “You believe her when she says she didn’t do it.”

“It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve seen someone framed for political reasons.” Nancy said, tightly. “My father, for one.”

“I don’t doubt it.” George said, shrugging. “But there’s no denying it. You’re taking this one personally.”

“So what if I am?” Nancy snapped, defensively. “Is it so bad for me to be invested in a cause?”

George got up and walked back to her chair, where she fished another cigarette out, but made no move to light it. Tension showed in her posture, and she kept her back to Nancy. “You get reckless when you’re invested.” she finally said, trying to keep her tone flat but unable to keep an undercurrent of worry. “And when you used to get reckless, I always had to patch you up, and… I don’t know that I can do that again.”

“I’m sorry.” Nancy said again. “I never wanted to…” she shook her head and sighed. “No, that’s wrong. Of course I did. I called you.” The words kept coming, either because she was wounded and tired or because she felt like she might not get another chance. “I dragged you back into this because I never could find a replacement for you. It’s like… it’s like I’m missing a limb.”

“Stop.” George said, voice fragile. “You can’t say this shit to me. Not now. Not after I’ve just seen what this job’s done to you again.”

“I’m selfish.” Nancy admitted, and this time she couldn’t stop the tears in time. “I don’t trust anyone else, and these people… they’re going to kill me if I can’t drag this shit into the light in time. If that’s what’s going to happen-“

George turned around and spoke in an almost pleading tone. “That’s _not_ what’s going to happen.”

“It _might be_ , George, because I’m not going to stop trying to clear Eunice’s name and they’re going to _have_ to kill me to stop me.” Nancy was breathing hard, her ribs shot a spike of pain to force her to calm down and she winced, drawing a concerned look from George, who was back at her side in an instant, pressing Nancy gently but firmly back down.

“That’s not what’s going to happen.” George repeated, more firmly, and there was a flash of familiar stubbornness in her eyes.

“They’ve got so much influence and money,“ Nancy said, feeling despair creep up on her. “and I’m-“

“Not alone.” George said, interrupting. “I can’t let you do this alone. You know that.”

The words sent a wave of panic through Nancy. She’d been too open, too honest with George. They would come after her if Nancy patched things up. That couldn’t happen.

“You _should_ , George.” Nancy said, maybe a little more harshly than she needed to. She couldn’t put George through another case. It wasn’t fair to her, and Nancy was increasingly of the opinion that she didn’t deserve George’s help in the first place. “I’m not your problem anymore, remember?” She made to get up out of bed. “This was a mistake. I should’ve left you alone.”

This time George was a little less gentle in forcing Nancy back down. “Too late, Drew. Sorry, but I’m not going to let you run off and get killed. For one thing, Bess would never let me hear the end of it. For another…” George leaned in close, and did not fail to notice Nancy’s sharp intake of breath and blush. “Well, I guess I’m just a sucker for girls in trouble.”

Nancy gave in and closed the distance between them. It was desperate and messy and over far too quickly. George rested her forehead against Nancy’s and breathed in deeply.

“I’ll get you something to eat, and then you should get some more rest. If what you say is true, you’ve got a lot of work to do yet.” George pressed another quick kiss to Nancy’s cheek and stood to leave.

Nancy reached out and grabbed George’s hand, stopping her. “Stay with me?”

George gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere, Nance. Someone’s got to keep an eye on you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for a quick and dirty tone piece. Then again, what good is a noir without a fraught romantic relationship and political intrigue?
> 
> This might be the end. It might not be. I never have been able to leave well enough alone, so your guess is as good as mine, dear reader. Thanks for reading, at any rate.


	3. Discourse and Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George and Nancy have another conversation. Ned stops by to provide some information.

George was gone with Nancy woke up the next morning, still feeling sore and bruised but more alive than she had the day before. The smell of cigarettes lingered in the air, and she blinked slowly as her eyes adjusted to the morning light. She ran her hand over the empty space beside her and sighed. She hadn’t expected George to be next to her in the morning – wasn’t even sure she’d ever wake up next to George again, if she was being honest, because there’s a difference between mending a fence and getting back to the way things were – but there was still a pang of disappointment. It didn’t help that Nancy knew George must have slept on the couch, which made her feel like an asshole.

She made to get out of bed just as George entered the room carrying a tray. “Don’t you fucking dare, Drew. You think a couple broken ribs and a knife wound are going to heal overnight?”

“I’d hoped.”

“Well they won’t.” George snipped, clearly not in the mood for an argument. “No running out and getting yourself in trouble until you’ve at least rested a couple days. Consider it my price for showing up and saving your ass.”

It was delivered with a smile, but it still cut something deep in Nancy’s chest all the same. “I already said I was sorry for pulling you into this-“

“And I already said to shut up about it. I’m helping you whether you like it or not, Nance.” George set the tray down on the bed (eggs, bacon, and toast. It was, Nancy thought, exactly the sort of disgustingly domestic thing they’d gotten used to doing years ago and that she missed almost more than waking up next to George), stood up, and gave Nancy a look that rode the line between annoyed and fond. “I told you, someone’s got to look after you.”

Nancy wished she were capable of responding with something nice, but instead ended up saying “I told you, it’s not necessary.”

“Shut the fuck up, Drew.” George said, now just plain annoyed. “Or I swear I’m going to get you healthy just to kick your ass myself. Now,” she sat down in the armchair facing the bed and lit a cigarette, “eat up and then you can tell me who roughed you up so I can go knock their teeth down their throat.”

“Oh no you don’t, Fayne.” Nancy snapped, using George’s last name for the first time since she’d seen her. “You aren’t allowed to run off and get hurt too – certainly not on _my_ account.”

George seemed taken aback for a moment, then recovered and let out a huff of smoke. “Alright, fine. But you’re gonna fill me in on what you’ve got, so we can put our heads together and figure out your next move. Do you know who actually did the killing?”

“I’ve got a notion – the husband suffered multiple stab wounds from a thin metal object – an icepick, to be precise. Just such an icepick happened to be found in the possession of Eunice, recently cleaned. A bloody rag made it clear that it was the murder weapon.”

“Ah.” George grimaced. “Ike the Spike.”

“The very same.” Nancy nodded. “Not only does it match his M.O., there was at least one witness who reported seeing a man near the scene who matches the last known description of dear Isaac Herowitz – balding, short hair, around five feet tall. Thing is, there’s just the one witness who made that claim, and they’ve since admitted they might be mistaken.”

“Meaning there’s a good chance someone got to the witness, assuming this _is_ a frame job.”

“Right. So I was making some enquiries as to whether or not anyone had seen Ike in town – it’s not like people don’t notice folks from out of town here, you know?” Nancy shrugged. “Thought I was being discrete, but _clearly_ I asked the wrong person, because the next thing I knew I was getting a phone call asking me to meet in the alley by the post office. Sounded like a promising lead, so off I went.”

“Let me guess,” George said, “Ike was waiting for you?”

“Ike and two other gentlemen of slightly larger stature and worse manners.” Nancy grimaced. “At least they had the courtesy not to break _all_ my bones.”

“Surprised it was a knife in your shoulder and not an icepick.”

“Oh, Ike was pissed about the knife – that was from one of the other guys after I broke his jaw.” She shrugged, then winced as the stitched wound stretched uncomfortably. “At least I _hope_ I broke his jaw. Fucker.”

George digested this information slowly. “So Ike wasn’t out to kill you?”

“No, just wanted me to stop asking around about him. Which makes me think he’s definitely guilty and thinks I’ll find out who hired him, but whomever hired him wants collateral damage kept to a minimum.”

“And _one_ body isn’t a minimum?” George snorted. “If you ask me, I think Ike’s just got a soft spot for you. You _did_ clear his name that one time, remember?”

“Yeah, but now he’s looking at being the fall guy for this murder – I don’t know if a soft spot for me trumps going down for that.”

“Okay, so you think whoever’s behind this has a vested interest in no further bodies turning up.” George frowned. “Does that… actually narrow down a list of suspects in the slightest?”

A twinge in Nancy’s ribs caused her to lose her grip on her fork and it clattered loudly to the tray. George was by the bedside in an instant, looking at Nancy with a deep care and concern that hurt. “I’m fine, George.” Nancy said, voice a little tighter with pain than she would’ve liked. She took a deep breath, winced, held it, and let it out. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

George seemed briefly surprised by her own reaction, and wavered between backing off and staying. Staying seemed to win out, as she withdrew a bottle from her shirt pocket and shook two pills out. “Here. Take two of these. It should help keep the inflammation down.” She reached to the nightstand where a glass of water sat and handed it and the pills to Nancy. “You should get some more rest.”

Frustration flared in Nancy at her own body’s rebellion, and she had to bite back a denial. She took the offered pills and swallowed them, then took a sip of water. “Thanks, George.”

George, who had watched the entire thought process play across Nancy’s face, gave her a crooked grin. “Hey, any time. Just… do me a favor and rest, okay? I’ve got some errands to run, but I’ll be back in a couple hours. Think you can resist the urge to run out and start trouble while I’m gone?”

“No promises, but I’ll give it my best shot.” Nancy said, surprised to feel herself starting to feel tired again. Apparently, eating breakfast had been more exhausting than she’d assumed.

“Good, because I’m not above sedating you if you don’t behave.” George said, in a tone of voice that implied she was…probably joking.

Nancy lay back down and closed her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Maybe, Nancy considered, George had already slipped her something – because she was very quickly asleep.

She was sitting in a white room. Red curtains hung on the window and sunshine streamed through the window, and across from her sat Ned, wearing a neat white polo shirt and khakis. He looked surprised to see her. The view outside opened on to a well-kept lawn and a vast forest. Nancy blinked in surprise.

“Hello, Nancy.” Ned said. “Long time no see.”

“I… yes, it has been.” Nancy replied. Something itched at the back of her mind and she ignored it. She’d been meaning to see Ned for a while, she’d just… “Things have been busy. A new case.”

“And George?” Ned asked, without malice. “How’s she?”

“We… haven’t spoken in a long time.” Nancy said slowly. “Not until the other day. I was…” she looked down at herself, expecting to see bandages, “in a bit of trouble. She was able to help-“

“Put you back together again?” Ned smiled, this time with a hint of sadness. “That used to be my job, once upon a time.”

Nancy sighed. “Ned, we’ve talked about this-“

“No no, don’t get me wrong, I’m not…” Ned frowned, paused, tried again, “well, I _was_ , but I’m not now. She’s good for you, you know.”

“Yeah,” Nancy smiled, “I know she is. I just worry that I’ll end up getting her killed.” Something itched in the back of her mind again.

“Well, enough of old topics.” Ned said, rubbing his hands together. “You’ve got a new case – Ike the Spike certainly doesn’t appreciate your interference, does he?”

“No, but not enough to kill me.” Nancy replied. “Which doesn’t make _sense_. I mean, a body isn’t ideal for anyone, but a strict no-kill policy?”

“Think, Nance,” Ned said, leaning forward. His eyes darted to look out the window and he started talking faster. “Bodies are inconvenient. You, in spite of your protestations to the contrary, are well known enough that if you turned up dead people would _notice_. This murder’s about the city council elections. Who doesn’t need murder investigations ruining their campaign activities?”

Nancy’s eyes widened. “No. It _can’t_ be him!”

“People will surprise you, Nancy.” Ned gave her another sad smile. “I certainly did, remember?”

The itch in the back of Nancy’s head exploded into memory and she charged forward just as the bullet shattered the window and went right through Ned’s temple. His head snapped to the side and his body slumped over. After a moment, he straightened up and looked at her with ruined eyes.

“Don’t forget.” He said, bloodshot gaze burning into her. “You can’t trust anyone. _Especially_ not him, got it?”

Nancy awoke with a start and a scream ripping out of her throat. George burst into the room, looking frazzled. “Nancy? What’s wrong?”

Nancy took a shaky breath and felt her ribs protest. The dream was fading fast, apart from the look in Ned’s eyes. “Nothing,” she said, “just a bad dream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I guess a flash of inspiration hit, because here I am and here you are and now there's another chapter of this. Will there be another? I mean, probably, but we took our time between then and now, so doubtless we will take our time between now and then. Patience is appreciated, since I've only got a few brain cells and they are easily distracted. I do hope you all enjoyed this (all three of you or however many people are hanging around this particular tag). I am physically incapable of not responding to comments, so feel free to comment, and thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Short and to the point, just like in the old days. Hope y'all enjoyed it - feel free to let me know. There's a nonzero chance I tack on another chapter or two, if only because I did not get the chance to write sufficient quantities of hard boiled detective talk in this.


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